Unconventional
by House's Girl
Summary: House in New Orleans at a medical convention. 'Nuff said! This was written as part of the Friday Night O/C Challenge. The prompt was "conventions."
1. Chapter 1

**Unconventional**

"Why do_ I_ have to present at the stupid convention?" House whined to a highly-vexed, but thoroughly unconvinced Cuddy!

"Because maybe it's a convention on infectious diseases and, let me see, you're an Infectious Disease specialist?!"

"Also," Cuddy added with just the slightest smirk, "maybe this will make you think twice before you shout to a cafeteria full of people that the mayo is tainted. I'm still dealing with the fallout from the Great Mayonnaise Scare of '07!"

"But Mo-o-o-m?" House pleaded, giving her his best puppy dog eyes.

"Forget it House! Now here's your ticket. I suggest you be a good little boy and start thinking about your presentation. The convention is three weeks from today in New Orleans."

House clutched his cane tightly and mumbled a string of curses and epithets including 'three weeks!'...'damn convention'...and the ever popular 'rotundas ss' as his boss herded him out of her office

As a defeated House hobbled into his office, he found Taub and Kutner at the table engaged in their favorite game, 'Who's Hotter,' while 13 figured she could avoid catching their idiocy by staring intently at her crossword puzzle.

Without a case to occupy them, his conference room had turned into a nursery for his obviously bored little ducklings.

House knew how they felt. He was bored, too! Maybe a few days at the Infectious Diseases Conference in New Orleans was just what the doctor needed.

*************************

"Cripple coming through," House bellowed to the long line of lively conventioneers and tourists waiting for taxis outside New Orleans International. His flight had just landed and he was now ready to explore the city he'd spent the past three weeks daydreaming about. The only thing that would have made this trip even better is if Wilson would have been able to join him. _Inconsiderate cancer patients._

In his endless musings and research, he had discovered online that none other than John Henry Giles himself was going to be playing at a little club called Snug Harbor located just outside the French Quarter. He couldn't wait to see the look of surprise on Giles' face, hear real jazz, eat spicy food till smoke poured out of his ears and, if he was lucky, get laid by some beautifully exotic southern creature.

After checking into the five-star Windsor Court Hotel instead of the four-star Sheraton Cuddy had arranged for him, House took the glass elevator to his very plush suite on the 15th floor.

The mini-bar didn't stand a chance as he grabbed two bottles of Scotch, a bottle of water, a Snicker Bar and a bag of M&Ms. He knew Cuddy would hit the roof when she got the bill, but so what! She owed him.

After scarfing down half the treats, House showered, changed into his dark jeans and a black designer t-shirt. He wondered if he should call that cute flight attendant who had given him her number, with very little prompting, as he disembarked. New Orleans was her home base and she said she could show him a good time.

_I bet she could,_ House thought as he grabbed his jacket, room key and wallet and headed out the door. Maybe he'd give her a call tonight--much later tonight.

House watched as the city blocks scrolled by as the taxi wound its way through the streets of the historic French Quarter. The old streets, many still lined with cobblestones and hitching posts, reminded House of the times they lived in Europe, especially Paris. The quaint art galleries and restaurants with their delicate wrought iron balconies and lush, hidden courtyards were simply breathtaking and dying to hear new secrets and share secrets long past.

The ringing of his cell phone snatched House back from his romantic musings.

"What?!" he barked, not bothering to look at his caller ID.

"Gregory Michael House! I know I raised you better than that!" said an exasperated Blythe House.

"Sorry, Mom." House said reverting to his 10-year-old self.

"It's okay, son. So how's New Orleans?" Blythe asked, immediately throwing her son off guard again for the second time in 10 seconds.

"Mom, how...how'd you know I was in New Orleans?" House stammered even though he knew instantly who had ratted him out the moment the words left his lips. _Wilson! _he thought. _You are SO dead! _

"Well, Gregory, when I couldn't get hold of you, I called James and he was kind enough to tell me you were in New Orleans for a medical conference. And guess what honey? Your dad, Aunt Sarah and Uncle Joe, your cousin Susan and her husband and I are flying into New Orleans tomorrow to take the Carnival Cruise Ship Fantasy to the Caribbean. The ship sails at 5 p.m. so we have just enough time to meet up with you and take you to lunch before we leave!

House gripped the cell phone so tight he thought it might disintegrate in his hands.

"I've been wanting to go to that restaurant...let's see, what's it called again...oh, now I remember...Galatoire's! Won't that be fun, Gregory?" Blythe gushed.

"Fun doesn't begin to describe it," he muttered under his breath. _Yeah, the last thing I need is my whole family cramping my style while I'm in sin city of the south for the first time in years! Lucky me! _

_"_So when do you guys get in?" House finally mustered the courage to ask, silently praying to a god he knew didn't exist that it would be too late for them to join him before they had to board their ship.

"11 a.m." Blythe said. "That should give us enough time to get settled on board and then grab a cab and meet you for lunch at 1 p.m.

"One it is," House said as the cab pulled up in front of the jazz club in the Faubourg Marigny neighborhood just outside the French Quarter.

After throwing the cab driver a fistful of crumpled bills, House headed straight for the bar as fast as his leg and cane would carry him and ordered a double Scotch neat. If he was lucky, maybe he could drink this little family reunion away.

tbc...?


	2. Chapter 2

1House spent his first night in New Orleans just as he had hoped. He listened to two phenomenal jazz sets by John Henry Giles, followed by a fabulous dinner in the club's cozy adjacent restaurant with John Henry and his wife Laura and the other members of the band and had toe-curling, hair-straightening sex with a beautiful woman, which served as the cherry on top of his unforgettable evening.

The Shrimp Etouffee followed by the sinfully delicious White Chocolate Bread Pudding he had at dinner nearly brought his taste buds to orgasm. While he liked a good dry Reuben, no pickles with french fries, as much as the next guy, House had actually managed to develop, from a very early age, a fairly sophisticated palate as a result of his family's travels around the globe. He just chose to eat like a day laborer.

Their little dinner party then retired upstairs to the club's VIP area where the views of the stage were excellent. A local modern jazz trio was now performing for a smaller, but nonetheless rapt crowd. For as good as they were, House actually felt sorry for them having to follow the likes of the great John Henry Giles.

As the band launched into Brubeck's "Take Five," the music seemed to provide House with a feeling of happiness that he rarely experienced in his daily life. Outside of solving his medical puzzles and his pre-infarction time with Stacy, did he rarely have such a feeling of joy.

With eyes closed, belly full, and another expensive Scotch at his reach, House's long, slender fingers moved in time with the keyboardist below. If he believed in heaven, which he didn't, he was convinced this would be it.

"Why don't you and I go down and join them for a song or two, Doc? John Henry asked a distracted House. "Show these youngsters a thing or two?"

Between keeping one eye on the new band and stealing the occasional glance at the profile of Giles' beautiful vocalist, Jesse, who sat next to him clothed in a clingy, black wrap dress with a plunging neckline, House was too blissfully engaged, at first, to hear John Henry.

When the trumpeter's rich baritone finally cut through, House couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"You and m-me?" he stammered, working hard to regain his composure, so he wouldn't come across like an overanxious schoolboy getting a chance to show off for his mentor. "You think they'd mind?

John Henry scooped up his trumpet and smiled at House. "I think they can be convinced."

House rose slowly from his seat, grabbing his Scotch, in case he needed some liquid courage while on stage.

"I didn't know you played, Doc?" Jesse all but purred, making House's hand, and another certain body part, twitch nearly spilling his Scotch.

"Not sure I'm as good as these young lions, but I've always wanted to play in a real New Orleans jazz club, so I'm willing to risk humiliation for the opportunity," he smirked, giving her one of his rare, but killer smiles.

Jesse locked onto his big blue eyes and winked at him. "I don't think you suffer humiliation, Dr. House. I think you're the kind of man who doesn't do anything half-way."

While she had called him Greg throughout dinner, at this moment, he liked that she had used the more formal "Dr. House." It made him think about how much he'd like to "play doctor" with her at the end of the evening.

Making his way to the stage with John Henry amidst thunderous applause, he took a seat at the Yamaha Baby Grand, which was a permanent fixture on the club's small stage. After cracking his knuckles, taking a sip of his drink and placing it on the floor next to the piano bench, he looked to John Henry who said, "Miles." House nodded and launched into the intro to "A Night in Tunisia."

The club fell silent as House, John Henry and the bassist from the young trio played their hearts out, doing Miles justice. They then launched into a lush rendition of "Night and Day." When the song ended, the audience sprang to their feet again offering their thunderous applause.

"Righteous," said the young piano player, giving House a fist bump, which House returned with a nod as he picked up his cane and his drink and departed the stage.

"So maybe you do have more than one thing, Doc," John Henry winked at House as they made their way to their perch above the stage.

By 2 a.m., John Henry and Laura were ready to call it a night. The other members of their party offered their good nights as they headed out the door on their way to another late night jazz club on nearby Rampart Street.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," John Henry joked with them as they piled into a taxi. "We leave tomorrow afternoon and I'd hate to miss my flight back to L.A. 'cause I'm stuck here bailing your drunk asses out of jail."

"Don't worry, man, we'll be there. We promise."

At the same time, both House and Jesse both stammered their thanks, but declined the invitation to move onto the next club with the boys in the band.

House and Jesse stood barely a foot apart as they waited with John Henry, Laura and the band's percussionist, Carlos, for the next taxi.

House had found out over dinner that they were also staying at the Windsor Court, so when a taxi pulled up, he offered it to John Henry, Laura and Carlos, saying he would share the next taxi with Jesse.

"Have a good night you two," John Henry waved as he climbed in the back seat. He had been watching the subtle flirting between the good doctor and his beautiful girl singer. He cared about Jesse, who had been performing with him non-stop for the past five years, right up until he got sick. And, as soon as the Doc had fixed him, Jesse was on the road again with him without missing a beat. He knew that both House and Jesse could use a little joy in their singularly-focused lives, even if it was for just one night.

"Good Night. Thanks for letting me jam with you and hang out with you guys. I had a great time," said an uncharacteristically grateful House.

"My pleasure, Doc. Just don't keep Jesse up too late," he smirked. "We have a gig tomorrow night at House of Blues on Sunset and I need my girl singer back."

House was grateful for the dark of night and the soft lights outside the club that helped cover the redness of his cheeks as he blushed furiously at the comment.

"Don't worry. She's in good hands."

"That's what I'm hoping for," Jesse whispered in his ear as John Henry's taxi disappeared into the night.

*********************

As their taxi pulled away from the curb, House feared that he would be in no condition to give a Grammy-winning performance in the sack, but he was determined as hell to try. He had been mesmerized all evening long by Jesse's sexy voice, her tight little body, and thoughts of running his fingers through her lusciously curling, auburn locks.

He was suddenly interrupted from his revery by a hand gently rubbing his left knee and moving steadily higher towards what was fast becoming a full blown erection.

Turning towards her, they locked eyes and within minutes their lips were locked in an urgent kiss.

"I've been wanting to do that all evening," she breathed heavily into his ear.

"Me too," he said drawing her earlobe into his mouth and gently sucking on it until she surrendered a small moan they thought only they could hear.

The cab driver glanced in his rearview mirror and just smiled. He had seen everything in his 20-plus years of driving a cab in New Orleans, so this was no big deal. If anything, this was tame, so far, compared to some of the things that had gone on in the backseat of his United cab.

House rubbed his fingers on the outside of the clingy wrap dress feeling her right nipple respond immediately to his touch. They both moaned in unison at the contact.

House began to slide his hand under the silky material of her dress and deeply kiss Jesse to the point of feeling like he was exploring her very tonsils, when the cab pulled into the circular courtyard of the hotel and stopped abruptly.

Frustrated, but grateful to have the time to recover as he paid the taxi driver, House grabbed Jesse's hand as they got out of the cab in record time and headed for the elevators that were fairly quiet at this time of the morning. The only people they saw were the occasional drunk conventioneers who were stumbling back to their rooms from a night of too many Hurricanes and bead bartering with pretty young coeds on world-famous Bourbon Street.

Luckily, they only passed the drunks in the hotel lobby, so had the elevator to themselves.

"My floor or yours," House asked as he pushed the V of her dress aside and planted kisses on the top of her now nearly exposed breasts.

"Yours," she said breathlessly as he tapped the button for 15 and resumed devouring her with his mouth.

The ding of the elevator sounded the end of round two and the start of what was soon to be the main event.

Before House had a chance to dig in his pocket for his room key, Jesse reached into his front jean pocket to "help" him retrieve it.

"Er...I don't think that's my key," he said with a lustful smile.

"But, I think I might know of a keyhole it just might fit," she said in a husky voice that almost sent him over the edge in that moment.

Once the door was open, she continued nibbling on his bottom lip and and trailing kisses down his throat as she backed him further into the room.

House dropped his cane with a thud on the deep, plush carpet as they both yelled "Timber" as they collapsed like two teenagers onto the enormous king-sized bed.

*******

When House awakened the next morning around 8 a.m., with not nearly as a terrible a hangover as he had anticipated, he smiled as he remembered how the scotches flowed like wine, the wine flowed like wine, the wonderful company at dinner, the hot cab ride to the hotel and the even hotter sex with the beautiful, and as he discovered at least twice, multi-talented Jesse.

Knowing she had to get back to her room to get showered, packed and to the airport in time for her 1 p.m. flight back to L.A., Jesse awakened early, but not before receiving a persistent wake up call from little House. Deciding against hitting the snooze, Jesse returned the favor and gave House a wake up call he wouldn't soon forget.

"When do you head out," Jesse asked an hour later as she stood in front of the mirror in his suite, brushing her hair and smoothing her dress as she prepared to return to her room on the 8th floor.

"Two more days. I got in Wednesday and I fly out on Sunday. I'm missing this city already."

"Me too," she said as she leaned over the bed and planted a slow, lingering kiss on his lips.

"What's your schedule like today," Jesse asked as she looked for her shoes, finding one under the bed and the other across the room in a corner from when she had kicked them off in a lust-filled frenzy last night.

"I'm going to an 11 a.m. session called "The Coming Pandemic," then lunch with my family, who decided to "surprise" me on their way to the Caribbean. Then, picking up a Christmas gift–a pair of antique earrings my friend Wilson bought at an online auction from some antique shop on Royal Street. And that's just the afternoon. Not sure what I'm going to do with my evening since you'll be gone," House said sheepishly as he busied himself with a piece of lint.

"That's really sweet of you," Jesse said as she picked up her purse off the dresser, continuing to pull herself together before leaving his room, for what was most likely forever.

House bristled at the word "sweet" as he sat up a little straighter against the head board, the sheet draping over the lower part of his body, barely covering his happy trail. _I'm not nearly as hung over as I thought I would be._ _Maybe I've built up a tolerance,_ he thought. _Either that or great sex, great music and great food are the cure for everything _he smiled to himself.

"I really don't understand him," House continued talking, wondering why he was running off at the mouth so much, especially so early in the morning. "He's Jewish, but he loves Christmas. Go figure. The earrings are a present for his current girlfriend, Cutthr...Amber."

Probably not a good idea to call Amber by her nickname, he thought. For some unknown reason, House, who never gave a damn about whether people liked him or not, suddenly wanted this woman to like him, to think highly of him. It probably had more to do with his respect for John Henry than anything else, he figured.

"Little early for Christmas shopping, isn't it?" she asked with a curious smile.

After spending the evening dining, conversing and flirting with him, Jesse just did not quite peg him the type to shop _or_ do favors for friends.

"Hey, you don't know Wilson. If I give you my cell phone, would you call and tell _him_ that?"

tbc...


	3. Chapter 3

Unconventional

Chapter 3

House rubbed slow, sensual circles over his chest as he distractedly lathered his body under the powerful jets of the hotel room's spacious shower. His mind flashed on images of Jesse. Her luscious full lips, her mass of dark curls, a pert nipple, the gentle curve of her hip. Feeling himself getting hard, he decided to immediately take matters in hand. Reluctant as he was to banish those images and wash away Jesse's maddening scent, he knew he had to get going if he was going to make it to the Convention Center in time for the 11 a.m. session, "The Coming Pandemic."

Arriving just 5 minutes late for the session, House had to grab one of the only seats available in row three of the 200-seat meeting room. He knew this was going to be a popular session, but this was ridiculous.

After about 15 minutes, he declared the session officially, mind-numbingly boring and the presenter a complete moron. House had read several brilliant articles by Dr. Rearden and hoped to glean some additional knowledge from the man, but unfortunately, Rearden had the presentation skills of a fence post. _That's what I get for having hope_.

Deciding to make his displeasure known to everyone in the room, House first dropped his cane to the hardwood floor with a clatter, picked it up with overly exaggerated movements and then excused himself with lots of loud, fake and profuse apologies, as he crossed over many grumbling doctors and researchers. The word "ass" could be heard softly competing for prominence as Rearden droned the words: "Sars" "pandemic" and "deaths per capita."

Having made his escape, he found himself in Exhibit Hall A, where literally hundreds of pharmaceutical companies proudly displayed their latest drugs, medical equipment and cutting-edge technology. He walked up to a large, brightly lit, overly-staffed booth for Abbott Labs, makers of Vicodin. _So this is what heaven looks like_, he thought to himself as he scanned their endless rows of flat screen monitors, and glossy pamphlets and brochures hawking a dizzying array of pain drugs. He paid silent homage for a few moments before finally turning to leave for lunch with his family. His mom had already called him from the Carnival Fantasy cruise line check-in to remind him, so there was no getting out of it.

Turning back towards the booth, he asked, "Any chance you guys give free samples?" The pretty girl in the too-small t-shirt just smiled.

_Oh well, I guy can dream._

It was 12:50 p.m. as he made his way by cab to world-famous Galatoire's Restaurant on Bourbon Street. He realized that by now Jesse had probably boarded her flight to L.A. and was flying out of his life at that very moment.

As he got out of the cab in front the unassuming white brick building wedged between neon-lit bars and quirky t-shirt shops, House suddenly realized that he was getting a little tired of endless one night stands. Of women walking in and out of his life with a frequency that was beginning to make even him uncomfortable. The melancholy thought quickly evaporated as soon as he walked through the doors and saw his dad, mom and the rest of his family already seated and waving him over to the table for eight at the end of the room.

_Kill me now_, he thought, as he nodded and made his way through the crowded restaurant.

The noise level was near-deafening, but filled with the voices of happy people having way too much fun as a result of way too many cocktails. House watched the colorful and odd mixture of ladies who lunch, businessmen in suits, a bridal lunch party with 10 pretty twenty-somethings knocking back champagne with wild abandon, and tourists like himself simply trying to process it all.

"Gregory," Blythe House sang as she sprang from her seat and lovingly wrapped her arms around her son's waist while stretching on tiptoes to kiss his grizzled cheek.

"Hi, mom."

House gently hugged her back and then immediately untangled from her embrace as he met his father's disapproving eyes peering over her shoulder. He straightened to his full height, shook his father's and uncle's outstretched hands, gave a brief peck on the cheek to his Aunt Sarah and cousin Susan, nodded across the table to her husband Mike and took the empty seat next to his mom.

A waiter appeared as if by magic and began rattling off an incredible list of cocktails he might like to have before ordering lunch. Not having alcohol did not seem to be an option, so House ordered Southern Comfort, neat, before finally facing his family.

"So, what's new on the babe front?" John House asked his son with a grin.

House inwardly rolled his eyes. After all these years, he still wouldn't actually do it in front of his father, but the stupid "babe" line always grated on his last nerve. It seemed to be one of only a handful of things his dad could think to ever ask him. His son, the world-renowned diagnostician, full professor, published author and accomplished musician, could just as well be some stranger sitting in a bar for as much trouble John House expended trying to connect.

"Er...there's a girl named Jesse I plan to see again." House surprised himself by the admission.

"Plan to see?" John asked incredulously. "Are you stalking her or something? Does she even know you exist?"

"John!" Blythe said with a light slap to his arm, the reprimand obviously a result of the Bombay gin and tonic she was nursing. "Leave him alone."

"Honey," she turned to her son with a warm smile, "Where did you meet Jesse? Is she a doctor? How old is she?"

House just smiled and sipped his Bourbon. Leave it to his mom to start thinking weddings and babies after only 10 minutes of conversation.

"Jessica...Jesse and I recently met. She's a singer. A great singer," he said, bracing himself for his dad's inevitable smartass comment.

"A singer? What bar did you meet her in? Is she some kind of floozy?" John taunted while Sarah, Joe, Susan and Mike sat silently, watching the conversation deteriorate like it had a million times before.

"John, leave the boy alone," Joe said with a half-hearted smile. "So, John, are you up for trying this spicy Alligator Sauce Piquant?" he said hoping to distract his bull-headed brother.

"I was a Marine. I can take it, can you?" he said, his eyes still silently challenging his son.

House was starting to feel his blood boil as for the second time during this little reunion, two people he loved felt the need to come to his defense against his idiot father. He felt like he was 12 years old all over again and he did not like the feeling at all.

Susan cose to down her Sazarec and focus on the French Bread crumbs that made interesting patterns against the crisp, white linen tablecloth. She had learned over the years of visiting her Uncle John and Aunt Blythe to stay as silent as possible when these little father/son moments erupted.

She always felt so sorry for her Cousin Greg. Even more so after his infarction. But she also knew that sympathy or pity from her or anyone was the last thing he wanted or needed and was the quickest way to end up on the receiving end of one of his vicious verbal attacks.

House looked at his watch and mentally willed time to move forward, so he could exit stage left from "Dysfunctional Family Theater." Glancing at the people at the next table, House marveled at how they all seemed to be getting along. Conversing, smiling and genuinely enjoying one another's company. He could only dream of having a family that well-adjusted, he thought sadly as he downed the rest of his second Bourbon in one gulp.

"So, how are Wilson and Cuddy?" Blythe asked, skillfully redirecting the conversation. She had spent years refereeing these moments between her husband and her son and had become quite expert at it.

"They're good," House said gratefully. "Wilson's working on wife number 4 and Cuddy's...well, she's still Cuddy."

"Wife number four?! And you can't seem to find wife number one. What are you waiting for boy? You're not getting any younger." John interjected.

Before House could answer, the waiter and his helper came to the table with trays loaded down with steaming bowls and plates of Seafood Gumbo, Grilled Pompano with Lump Crabmeat, Alligator Sauce Piquant, Crawfish Etouffee, Blackened Redfish and Shrimp Pasta. Everyone dug in, grateful for the edible distraction.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, which was completely out of place amidst the many gregarious lunch parties, Blythe began telling them about the fascinating history of the 100 year old restaurant they were in, what she planned to do on the ship and which Caribbean ports she was looking forward to seeing. This seemed to relax the others at the table and normal conversation slowly resumed.

She smiled inwardly as she could see her son visibly unclenching. By the time dessert arrived at the table, lunch had managed to proceed without further incident.

His mother knew her role and played it well, House thought as he stabbed the last bite of his banana bread pudding without looking up at either one of his parents.

A half hour later he stood on the curb in front of the restaurant, saying forced goodbyes, at least to his dad, and watching as the taxi cab pulled away, taking them back to the ship and hopefully out of his life for another few months, if he was lucky. _Family_, he thought, _concentric circles of misery if there ever were._ Once the cab was completely gone from sight, House walked the two blocks to Wallington Jewelers on Royal Street to pick up Wilson's gift for Amber.

The delicate, silver treble clef earrings caught his eye as he waited at the counter for the clerk to retrieve Wilson's package from an office in the rear of the small shop. They specialized in estate jewelry and one-of-a-kind pieces, so he knew Wilson had spent a small fortune. He was now sure that Amber was on the fast track to becoming number four. The clerk returned with the delicately-wrapped box and handed it to House. He didn't know what possessed him, but before leaving the store, he thought how lovely Jesse would look wearing the musical earrings on stage.

House pointed to the earrings in the case. "I'll take those," he said without hesitation, "and could you mail them to this address," he said, handing her his credit card and Jesse's business card.

Reaching across the counter for a small note card, he scribbled a quick note and handed it back to the clerk, who smiled widely as she tucked it inside the gift box.

"Lucky lady."

"I'm the lucky one," he said as he left the store with an uncharacteristic pep in his step.

Several hours later, after drinks, dinner and a quick music set in the hotel's bar & lounge, House called it a fairly early night. He had planned to call the hot, young flight attendant he'd met upon his arrival in New Orleans, but after meeting Jesse, well, the flight attendant was now just a poor second.

His hotel room, with the now newly made bed, suddenly felt big and lonely without Jesse's presence. He pulled on pajama bottoms and an old gray t-shirt and climbed slowly into bed. His head had barely hit the pillow when his eyes closed and he immediately fell asleep.

He was alone in his apartment playing a beautiful rendition of "Night and Day"on the piano when he felt soft hands caressing his shoulders. The smell of perfume filled his nostrils and the sound of Jesse's sexy singing voice created a deeply peaceful sensation unlike anything he had felt before. Without knowing it, he actually smiled in his sleep.

tbc...


	4. Chapter 4

1Unconventional

by HouseCall123

Chapter 4

"Good Morning children. Did you miss daddy while he was boozing it up in New Orleans?"

Kutner and Taub exchanged genuinely freaked out looks while 13 simply stared blankly at her clearly insane boss and returned to reading the latest issue of _Lancet_.

"I take it you had a good time at the conference?" asked Foreman who stood in the corner making himself a cup of coffee.

"Let's see," House said, pretending to give the question deep thought. "The conference was boring...New Orleans was just as I remembered it–delicious and fattening food...incredible music and the women...hot! Need I say more?"

House walked over and took the cup of freshly brewed coffee out of Foreman's hands. "Now, boys and girls, if you'll open your patient folders to page one, maybe we can save this guy from whatever's trying to kill him."

Four days and dozens of symptoms and tests later, House and his team managed to save their patient's life and were actually able to go home before dark on Friday.

House walked slowly into his apartment, dropping his keys and backpack on the side table and hanging his cane on the molding above his head. He flipped swiftly through the mail he had carried in, chucking it all in the small wire waste basket. After grabbing a beer from the kitchen, he comfortably planted himself on the sofa for a long, quiet evening of TV, takeout and much-needed rest.

The pizza arrived just as Grave Digger was trouncing Carzilla. House ate a few slices of the large pepperoni, black olives and mushroom pizza, knocked back the rest of his second beer and felt his eyelids getting heavy. As he teetered on the edge of sleep, visions of Jesse began to appear. He had been so busy all week that he hadn't had time to really think about her. It wasn't until the patient was improving that he was able to shift his focus to include thoughts of her.

He knew that she should have received the earrings sometime that day and when he hadn't heard from her he figured one of two things had happened: either she hadn't received the earrings and they would arrive tomorrow or she was so spooked by the impulsive gesture that she couldn't respond. He decided he would just wait to see if she'd call. The ball, well the earrings, were now in her court.

An hour later as the TV watched House snooze on the couch, the phone rang. Grabbing his cell and just barely making out Wilson's number, House growled, "This better be good."

"Hello to you too, sunshine," Wilson said before his cranky friend could launch into a diatribe about being awakened. "How'd you like to get lucky tonight?"

"Well, Jimmy, you're not quite my type, but I do like to leave myself open to new experiences." House could hear Wilson rolling his eyes.

"Look, do you want to go with me to that new bar over on Nassau? I heard through the hospital grapevine that some of the nurses from Peds and Radiology are going to be partying there tonight. They're hosting a bachelorette party for Wendy. You know, the Peds nurse who briefly dated Foreman? Well, she's marrying Montgomery from Radiology next Saturday and the girls are going to make O'Flaherty's their last stop of the evening. They should be getting there around 10-10:30 p.m."

House felt a nano-second of guilt for having broken up Foreman's romance with Wendy. Maybe it would be Foreman and Wendy getting married next Saturday, if he hadn't interfered. _Oh well, she wasn't right for him away, and besides, what's done is done,_ he thought to himself as Wilson rambled on about the details of the night's gathering.

Wilson had been invited to the wedding because of his friendship with Wendy and his working relationship with Dr. Montgomery, but he had been given strict instructions that House, under no circumstances, was to be invited. Wendy had gone so far as to tell Wilson, she would be more comfortable having Foreman at her wedding than House.

"Doesn't sound like a good idea, Jimmy. I think I'm more on her sh*t list than her guest list and, unless you're getting a free toaster from the wedding chapel, you do not need to be working on marriage number four." Wilson just ignored the crack.

"House, it's a big bar, there'll be lots of people there–female people. She probably won't even know you're there.

"Riiiight."

"And if she does, what is she going to say? It's a public place. You have every right to be there, just like all the other drunk guys."

On any other night, the thought of trawling for pre-wedding frenzy tail and free drinks courtesy of Wilson would definitely be a plan, but tonight, his heart and his libido just weren't into it.

After a few more moments of incessant pleading from Wilson, who really had his heart set on getting laid, House realized how ridiculous it was for him to sit at home. Afterall, no matter how much he thought about her, he and Jesse weren't really anything to one another. _For chrissakes, we barely know each other. We're on opposite coasts from one another,_ he thought to himself.

"Pick me up at 10 p.m.," he said to a now very excited Wilson.

*****

Jesse stared at her reflection in the mirror admiring the silver treble clef earrings House had sent her. They had arrived sometime earlier in the day, but she hadn't gotten them until she arrived home around 8:30 p.m., giving her just enough time to briefly admire them, giggle at the card inside and get dressed so she could make it to the Wiltern in time for her 10 p.m. gig with the John Henry Giles Quintet.

Upon opening the small beautifully wrapped package, Jesse picked up the phone to call House and thank him for the lovely gift and say again what a great time she had with him in New Orleans, but realized it was 10:30 on the East Coast and put the cordless phone back in its cradle. Since she had no idea what she was going to say to him after thank you, she really didn't want to rush through what was sure to be a somewhat awkward, though nonetheless important conversation.

She smiled a crooked grin as she re-read the silly words on the little note card that came with the earrings: "I enjoyed spending time with you. You are truly music to my ears." It was corny, but cute, and what House couldn't know from the brief time he had spent with Jesse, she liked corny.

Jesse suspected that House was not the type to sit around waiting for anyone's phone call, so she decided to call him tomorrow when she was fresh and they could talk at length. With that, she fluffed her curls, grabbed her purse and keys and headed out the door with thoughts of the very handsome and sexy Gregory House floating through her head.

tbc...


End file.
